


Food For Thought

by Gildedmuse



Series: The Grocery Store Panic Dance (A Slice Of Life Medley) [2]
Category: Rent (2005), Rent - Larson
Genre: Bad at adulting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grocery Shopping, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Bohemians, One-Sided Attraction, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Pre-Canon, Secret Crush, Short One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedmuse/pseuds/Gildedmuse
Summary: It's nice having the money to actually go shopping. It's be nicer if Roger would notice him.





	Food For Thought

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted to LJ in 2008 or so. Part of a series of domestic fluff/slice of life fics.]

**Step II – Food For Thought**

It’s a rare occasion when Mark and Roger have enough to shop.  
  
Between music and film and smack it’s a miracle the two boys eat anything at all. Collins tries to buy them a meal whenever he’s in town, but he doesn’t always have enough to support himself and Mark feels like shit for taking money that could go towards another month of AZT. Roger claims he doesn’t need food. He just needs music and the stage and this April girl he’s seeing.  
  
And blow, of course. Roger never says it, but Mark has figured it out all on his own. Feeding himself isn’t as important as shooting up.  
  
So Mark is surprised when Roger drags him shopping.  
  
“The grocery store?” Mark has trouble remembering the last time he’d stopped at a proper grocery store. Usually it was fast food, the life café, or some small convenient store for chips and soda. Compared to their normal routine, an actual grocery store is high living.  
  
Roger says, “I have some money. Figured we could use some food around the place.”  
  
Mark raises an eyebrow and bites down on his lip to keep himself from asking. Roger’s last gigs paycheck went right from his hands and into the Man’s pocket. If Roger came into money, it wasn’t through work. Mark is sure he’d rather not know about it.  
  
“How much?” He asks. Roger is leading the way down the cereal isle and Mark is practically salivating.  
  
Roger shrugs. “And two hundred or so.”  
  
“Two hundred dollars!” Three of the women in the isle and a couple of their kids turn to look at Mark, who immediately turns a deep red. Roger turns red, too, but it has little to do with embarrassment.  
  
“You want to get robbed? Keep it down.”  
  
Mark thinks there isn’t much of a chance that the stay at home moms were going to pull handguns out of their purses and mug the two right there in the middle of the breakfast isle, but he doesn’t say anything. He does say, “What do you want to get?”  
  
“Something fattening,” Roger says. “Something with no redeeming health benefits once so ever.” Mark gives him a look. Roger rolls his eyes. “Fine. What do you want, then, oh health conscious one?”  
  
Mark chews at his lower lip while he thinks this over. It’s been a while since he could afford to eat whatever he wanted. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and the meals he use to take to school in those brown paper bags. He remembers those being good, and so he says, “Fruit snacks, maybe?”  
  
Roger snorts. “Fruit snacks?”  
  
“It does contain the word fruit,” Mark points out. Roger laughs, tossing an arm around Mark’s shoulders and leading him away from the still staring mothers. Mark ignores the track lines in his friend’s arm and the way the blonde women with the small daughter stares at Roger’s ass when they walk by.  
  
“Fruit snacks it is,” Roger says. He looks at the signs hanging over each isle and says, “You think that’s under fresh produce?”  
  
Mark elbows Roger in the stomach and says, “Smart ass.” He’s smiling, though, because Roger is smiling. It’s been a while since Roger smiled that way for him. Lately, that sort of grin has been reserved for April. Mark has missed being on the receiving end of Roger’s good moods. He’s missed watching Roger pacing around the loft trying to think up new chords for some song he had dancing around in his head. He missed taking walks through central park with his camera at one side and Roger on the other, calling Mark a geek even as he pointed out good filming locations.   
  
Mark has missed Roger.  
  
It’s perfectly normal to miss your best friend, Mark reasons. Roger is his best friend, and he had been Roger’s until all of this started. Now Roger’s best friend resides in a needle, and it’s all Mark can do to stick around and watch him shake. Mark sometimes wonders if it’s normal to be jealous of a drug.  
  
Roger messages his ribs, wincing and smiling at the same time so that he looked slightly unbalanced. Mark thinks it looks good on him. Everything looks good on Roger. He must have been staring to long because the teasing look starts to fade from Roger’s eyes. “Everything okay there, Marky?”  
  
Mark laughs and points towards the bakery. “That what you were looking for?” He asks, wondering off to look at that cake display before he can answer Roger’s question.  
  
Roger lifts up one of the plastic covers on the cake. “This one looks good,” he says before dipping his finger into the icing, destroying half a yellow flower and leaving the top of the cake smudged and dented. Mark checks around to make sure no one is watching Roger try a free sample.  
  
Roger doesn’t do anything gingerly. He stuffs his finger in his mouth and sucks until all the sugary sweet is gone. Roger might be the one eating liquid sugar, but it’s Mark who has trouble swallowing.  
  
“Too sweet,” Roger says, putting the lid back on. Mark takes that as his cue to say something instead of just staring at Roger with a half opened mouth and a brand new hard-on.  
  
“What you expect?” He asks. His voice croaks and Roger laughs at him. Mark can always tell when Roger is laughing at him. He blushes and tries to hide himself around the cake table. He gets ready to rebuff any of Roger’s jokes about how long it’s been since Mark had gotten any.  
  
Roger doesn’t notice Mark’s predicament. Instead he says, “Come on, Mark, aren’t you suppose to be the anarchist?”  
  
Mark isn’t prudish, but he’s thankful that his embracement has been mistaken for fear of getting caught. “That’s Collins,” Mark corrects. “I lean towards libertarian.” It’s a lame thing to say, but at the moment having a witting conversation isn’t one of Mark’s worries. His number one concern is picturing his family’s last thanksgiving when his uncle throw up on his lap, or that dead dog Mark had stumbled over when he walked back to the loft drunk, or the hairs in his tenth grade math teacher’s armpits.  
  
Roger rolls his eyes and says, “Whatever.” He looks down at the other cakes and says, “You want to try one.”  
  
In his mind, Mark pictures Roger’s finger covered in yellow and white smudges. He images closing his lips around it and licking at the sweet icing. It’s slow and deliberate, and ends with Roger naked.  
  
Mark’s vibrant imagination does nothing to help his predicament.  
  
“No, that’s okay,” Mark mutters. He can feel his cheeks burning.  
  
When Roger’s grin goes from teasing to mischievous, Mark knows he’s doomed. Roger opens another cake. Chocolate, this time, with a racetrack on top and checkered flags at the corners. He says, “Go on. Give it a try.”  
  
Mark says, “I feel like fruit.”  
  
Roger laughs and dips a finger in. He comes up with grass and road and mud swirled all around his digit. He offers it to Mark and says, “Don’t be such a chicken, Mark. Just give it a try. You know you want to.”  
  
Mark hesitates. There are a hundred reasons why he should tell Roger ‘no’ and ‘stop this right now’. But logic is long gone by the time Mark leans forward and tastes that first bit of chocolate frosting, tongue gentle and curious as he licks up one side of Roger’s long, calloused fingers. There are a hundred reasons why Mark would be stupid to do anymore, but second later he has Roger’s finger in his mouth and his cheeks hallowed out. The salt of Roger’s skin blends with the sweetness, and long after the last bit of cake is gone Mark is still licking and sucking and tasting Roger.  
  
Then he makes the mistake of opening his eyes.  
  
In his imagination, Roger is looking down at Mark – the Mark he always teased about being such a prude when it came to sex and girls – with eyes wide and dark. He is breathing deep and unable to look away from the show Mark has put on for him. He is reaching for Mark and forgetting about food and demanding that the two find a bedroom immediately.  
  
In reality, Roger is looking at Mark with curious eyes. “Done?” He asks. There is a wet smack when Mark lets go of his finger. “I’ll take it you like that one?”  
  
“I could really go for some fish.” Mark says. It’s the first thing he can manage that isn’t a scream.  
  
“Whatever.” Roger is rolling his eyes again. “I’ll get the cake and the beer. You get your fish and fruit roll ups.” He picks up a cake, not the one he’d feed Mark. This one is white and kind of girly. Mark doesn’t like the looks of it. “I’ll meet you at the front counter.”  
  
Roger ruffles Mark’s hair when he walks off. Mark says, “But I’ll miss you,” and Roger doesn’t hear him.  
  



End file.
